Chamber Music
by IThinkILeftMyCoatOutside
Summary: Based off of Paolo Nutini's Chamber Music. One-shot. Mentions of Klaine.


**Okay so this is just random writing, really. Based on Paolo Nutini's _Chamber Music_, hence the title. The song isn't very long - only two verses - but I was listening to it in the car the other day and my mind started a-wandering, so I wrote this later that night when I got home. **

**Uhh, yeah. So, it's just a random oneshot. Let me know what you think :) Xx**

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Rosie loves the trampoline.

No matter what time of year it is, she always demands that I go on it with her whenever she comes to mine. I normally see her on Tuesdays and Thursdays, because they are the nights Kurt works late. On those nights I pick her up from school and all the way home she bounces in her seat, practically bursting with things she wants to tell me. But she never says anything, oh no. Not until we're sat out on the trampoline, the afternoon sun bathing us in a warm glow. In the summer or the late spring, she'll sometimes sit with her back to me as I entwine flowers into her hair as she talks. Other times we'll lie down together and watch the sky, pointing out shapes in the clouds that we see.

Even in the winter, she insists that I carry her across the garden on my shoulders until we're sat on the springy black surface. When the snow comes, we get the mattress from the spare room and bring it down to the lounge and sit on that. She can still bounce on it, so as soon as she's finished telling me anything and everything she has to say, we stand up and she bounces as high as the mattress will allow her. I just bend my knees so it looks like I'm bouncing, but she never seems to notice and if she does, she doesn't say anything about it.

It never lasts, though. At half past eight, the doorbell will ring and there's Kurt, waiting to take our daughter home where he and his new husband will tuck her into bed, read her a bedtime story and kiss her goodnight.

Every other weekend, _I_ get to do that; I get to be 'Pappy' again. Every other weekend, Kurt will drop Rosie off on the Friday night, and I get to spend the whole weekend with her. Sometimes we go out, sometimes we don't. It's just father-daughter time, and it's always my favourite time. From dinner on the trampoline during the week in the summer months to being tucked up on the sofa with cocoa at the weekend in the winter ones, it's _always_ my favourite time. Sure, I'd rather it was the three of us – me, my daughter and my now-ex-husband – but things don't always work out that way.

There was a time, albeit a short time, when Rosie couldn't come to mine. After what happened, Kurt barely let her out of his sight let alone to mine for a weekend or even a night. He warmed up eventually, after I sorted myself out. I don't blame him, I'd have done the same; if _he_ had become a wreck that slept all day and then smoked when he was awake, then of course I wouldn't have let my daughter anywhere near him. I would have told him to pick himself up, dust himself off and sort himself out. And that's what Kurt did to me; he gave me a few harsh words that night that I turned up at our old home and begged to see my daughter. He gave me a month, and if I was sorted at the end of those twenty eight days and on my way to being better for our daughter, then I could see her. He didn't want to exclude me, or stop me from witnessing our daughter grow up, so he gave me the chance.

I took it.

Not only had I given up smoking at the end of those twenty eight days, I had gotten myself a job and a flat and was really trying to smarten myself up. The first few times it would be a few hours on a Saturday morning. Then after a few months it got bumped up to a whole weekend every other week. When Kurt got promoted, he asked me to look after Rosie until he finished and he would pick her up on the way back from work. Rosie always wanted to stay later, and so, after Kurt got remarried, he would go home and have dinner with _him_, and then he would pick Rosie up before bed time.

And that's where we are now; two weeknights and a whole weekend every other week. It's nearing eight thirty, and I don't want her to go, but it's part of the deal. I'll be seeing her tomorrow night anyway, when Kurt drops her off for the weekend, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

*_Dinng donng_*

I sigh heavily and kiss Rosie's hair where she's asleep in my lap before waking her gently. She stirs, and I tell her that it's time to go. She's exhausted, bless her; she was on the trampoline for a good hour, even when I came in to cook dinner she carried on jumping around on her own. Rosie wraps her arms around my neck and I lift her up, grabbing her school bag and her coat on the way as I carry her to the door.

I bite the inside of my mouth and force a warm-hearted smile when I see him, stood there with his hair styled perfectly and his skin just a few tones darker than it used to be when we were together. He's been on a lot more holidays since they got together, and after they got married they started going to more exotic places. It's their two year anniversary soon, which means they've been together for three and a half years. Rosie will be seven next month, and that means I get to see her in the morning before she goes to school. I'll wait until _he_ goes to work, of course, but because it's a Wednesday I won't see her after school until the next day. It's become a bit of a tradition, that I see her in the mornings on her birthday, no matter if it's one of my days or not. We used to wake her up slightly earlier on her birthdays; Kurt and I sat on either side of her in bed as she opened her cards and presents. We don't do that anymore. Now Kurt brings her into the living room, one of the only rooms I'm allowed in at their new house, and Rosie will cuddle up next to me on the sofa as she opens the presents from me. I know that they do it now, Kurt and _him_; they wake her up early and give Rosie her presents in bed. I know because Rosie told me the first year that it happened, after _he_ moved in. It hurt, when she said '_Daddy and Blaine woke me up early to give me my presents this morning, just like you and Daddy used to._'

"Hi," He smiles tentatively, his eyes full of adoration when he sees our Rosie asleep in my arms.

"Hey," I smile back. This doesn't get any easier, seeing him. My friends said it would, that seeing him with someone else would eventually become easier, and it did. It's seeing him _on his own_ that's still hard, because for a second I can believe that he's not remarried, and the silver band he wears on his finger is actually the gold one from _our_ wedding, symbolising _our_ vows.

I slowly transfer Rosie from my chest to his, being careful not to wake her, and then I pass over her bag and her coat, expecting Kurt to say a quick goodbye before heading back down the driveway and getting into his car that he always parks in the street. But for once he doesn't; he stands there and bites his lip, staring hard at the floor. There's a sadistically gleeful swoop in my chest when I imagine him looking up at me and telling me he's sorry, that he wants to take it all back and for things to go back to the way they were, and I even go so far as to consider if I would take him back if he did that.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he looks up at me and simply says "she really loves you, you know." It takes me by surprise, and it must be evident on my face because Kurt continues. "She never shuts up when she gets home; it takes me a good hour to get her ready for bed on the nights she comes here." My chest slowly tightens and I can feel a hot, burning sting rise up the back of my throat as my vision becomes blurry. "She always goes on about your trampoline," He smiles affectionately, and I can't help but return it. "So much so that I offered to get her one at our place, but she told me 'no, that's mine and Pappy's thing'." He laughs softly, his breath coming out as a faint white puff in the night air.

Kurt goes silent for a little while as he recalls the memory, and I just stare at him, secretly asking him to tell me more. I'm finding it a little hard to breathe right now, so I'm not going to be the one to break the silence. We just stand there together; hush drifting between us as well as the broken strings that used to connect us.

Rosie stirs, and it snaps us both out of our reveries. Kurt clears his throat and shifts Rosie in his arms, but she still doesn't wake. "I'd better get this one home, then," He says, and he almost sounds regretful that he has to leave but I'm not going to fool myself. I nod and gently give Rosie's hair one last stroke, admiring how it's almost identical to the chestnut-brown of Kurt's.

His eyes meet mine for a brief, fleeting second that plunges a dagger into my heart, because it's in moments like that I used to lean over and kiss him. Just a quick peck whenever our eyes met because I could when we were married. But we're not anymore.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and I take Rosie's bag and coat from him when he struggles to retrieve it. He throws me a grateful look and quickly scans the screen. A small smile teases his lips and I know who it's from.

"Blaine's just asking where we are," He explains, a painfully familiar fondness in his tone of voice when he mentions his new husband. I already knew. "I'd better get back," I want to demand to know why; _why_ Blaine gets to order him home , _why_ we can't just talk for a while. But it's just a bitter resentment, a painful side effect of who I've become. I'm a broken-hearted man, can you really blame me? "Rosie has Sports tomorrow, and she's going to need her energy for that." He clarifies, and I hate myself for being so vicious; he's just being her _parent_, taking care of our little girl.

"Okay," I concede, stepping back and resting my hand on the door handle, ready to close it so that I don't have to watch them disappear into his car. "Bye sweetheart." I whisper to my daughter as I put her bag and coat into Kurt's extended hand. He offers me a smile, and I painfully return it. "See you tomorrow." I say, referring to how he'll be dropping Rosie off at around seven pm.

"See you tomorrow." He nods and turns away, slowly walking away. I close the door when he's halfway down the drive and lean back against the door. This is my least favourite time, the most painful time, and I hate it. I hate saying goodbye to my daughter, because I should be the one tucking her in tonight. I should be the one tucking her in _every_ night. But I'm not.

And I just have to live with that.

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**I wanted to let you all know that after chapter ten of True Colours is uploaded I'm going to only upload drabbles and oneshots; because of school and work and coursework I don't have much time to sit and write for long periods of time anymore. Therefore, I'm going to keep writing until I get a few chapters ahead on each, or maybe even finish them, and then I will be able to update for you regularly. I'll still be writing, it just might be a while until there is any of SC or TC on here. **

**Also! I got Twitter this morning, so come follow me if you want :) Amy2296 Yeah, my name is Amy, just so you all know :)**

**So yeah. Thoughts?**


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